Chapter 958 - 957: A Place In The Abyss

Simon looked at Enigma’s outstretched hand.

The Abyss.

He already knew the name. He knew enough about the organisation to be wary of it, and little enough to remain curious.

But Enigma did not know that.

The Daemon watched him patiently, waiting for an answer. Nothing in Simon’s expression revealed that he had considered the organisation long before entering this tent.

Now one of its members was inviting him to join.

Simon almost smiled.

One could make all the plans in the world and still fail to predict where life would lead.

He lifted his gaze.

"I’ve never heard of this organisation. Before I can accept your invitation, you’ll have to tell me what The Abyss is."

Enigma chuckled.

"Of course. You’re right."

He withdrew his hand.

Simon glanced toward the side of the tent. Another chair stood there, its empty surface covered in dust.

The Seed of Pride stirred.

The chair rose from the ground and moved toward him. It settled behind his legs, and Simon brushed some dust aside by controlling the wind before sitting on its edge.

Enigma’s eyes flickered.

"That wasn’t wind."

Simon looked at him.

"What sort of ability was that?" Enigma asked, his gaze moving briefly toward the table.

"I’m here to learn about The Abyss, not explain my abilities."

For a moment, Enigma regarded him silently.

Then he laughed and shook his head.

"Fair enough. I should answer your questions before adding my own."

He settled back into his chair.

"The Abyss is an organisation of Daemons."

Simon listened without reacting.

"When we find a true Daemon, we extend an invitation. The same applies to demons who have awakened their Daemon bloodline to a sufficient extent, even if they haven’t become true Daemons yet."

"So a trace of Daemon blood is enough?"

"No. Not every demon possesses such a bloodline, and possessing it does not mean it has awakened far enough to interest us."

Enigma’s gaze rested on Simon.

"That is not a concern in your case."

Simon let the remark pass.

"We are one of the powerful organisations that remain hidden within the Demon Realm," Enigma continued. "Most demons live their entire lives without knowing we exist."

Simon’s brows drew together.

"One of? There are others?"

"Yes."

"What others?"

Enigma smiled.

"That is something I cannot tell you yet."

Simon watched him.

"I can explain enough for you to consider the invitation," Enigma said. "But much of what concerns The Abyss, and the other powers hidden within the realm, is not information I can give to an outsider."

"Then what happens if I refuse?"

"Nothing."

Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"You won’t become our enemy merely because you decline an invitation," Enigma explained. "Although we would continue to keep an eye on you."

"Why?"

The smile faded a little.

"Because, shameful as it is to admit, Daemons are rare. We cannot afford to be entirely indifferent when another appears."

He paused, then added,

"And if you die, we would make certain your corpse doesn’t fall into the wrong hands."

Simon stared at him.

"How reassuring."

"It was an explanation, not a threat."

"You mentioned my corpse rather casually."

"Would speaking solemnly make it less valuable?"

Simon’s gaze shifted briefly toward Eshar’s head.

Enigma followed the movement.

"Your body possesses considerable value, Blackmoon. Dying would not change that. It would only make taking it easier."

Simon rested his hands against the armrests of the chair.

He had no difficulty believing that.

Still, being watched by an organisation interested in where his corpse ended up was hardly comforting.

And he had hoped to learn considerably more.

He already knew The Abyss was an organisation of Daemons. Pretending otherwise had been meant to draw out information, not earn him an explanation of what he already understood.

"Is that all you can tell me?"

Enigma studied his expression.

"Not quite."

Simon waited.

"My honest advice is that you join us."

"You’ve already made your interest clear."

"And now I am speaking about yours."

Enigma leaned forward slightly.

"You offended the God of War. Whatever happened at the end of your battle, do you believe that matter is finished?"

Simon did not answer.

"The Abyss can offer you some protection against him. Against other gods as well."

"Some protection."

"Yes. I won’t promise that no god can touch you."

At least he was not making that promise.

Simon had heard an offer of protection from the God of War before. Prince Varen had wanted his life and every generation after him in return.

Enigma had not asked for an oath.

Not yet however.

"Things are likely to become more difficult for you," the Daemon continued. "You are no longer merely an unusual demon. You are a true Daemon with enough power and strange abilities to attract attention you may not welcome."

His eyes briefly moved toward the table.

"Some will want to kill you. Others will want to understand how you do what you do. Neither interest is likely to make your life pleasant."

"And The Abyss would be different?"

"We would prefer you alive and among us."

Simon considered that answer.

It was not the same as saying they wanted nothing from him.

But he had never expected that.

Eshar’s head rested beside Enigma’s chair. Four leaders of Black Horn knelt before him. Whatever else Simon thought of the Daemon, he had already demonstrated that he could do more than make promises.

And an organisation capable of offering even limited protection against gods was worth learning about.

Keeping his distance had its advantages.

So did finding out what stood behind the name.

After several moments, Simon raised his eyes.

"I’m interested in joining The Abyss."

Enigma’s expression brightened.

"Good."

He sounded genuinely pleased.

"I will have to take you to meet the elders. Once you are officially admitted, you will be able to learn some of the things I cannot discuss with you now."

Simon gave him a faint smile.

"Then I look forward to meeting them."

Enigma nodded, then glanced toward the four demons kneeling between them.

"And these four?"

Simon’s attention shifted.

"What would you like to do with Korran and the others?"

All four pairs of eyes widened.

Sweat gathered along Marek’s temples. Beside him, Korran strained against the poison, his gaze fixed desperately upon Simon.

Selan and Dorel were no better. Beads of sweat slid down their faces as they struggled to make their mouths obey.

They tried to force out words.

To beg.

But their lips barely moved, and the poison kept their pleas trapped behind unresponsive mouths.

Simon looked at them.

He remembered returning through the rift with his arms barely held together by the Chaos Wraps.

Not one of them had called for a healer.

Marek had sent his core from Ironcrest toward Frostveil despite knowing Akaza was injured. He had reminded Simon of the oath when Simon questioned the order.

Rellis had died. The others had remained on Earth while Simon struggled to stay alive.

And Marek’s response to his return had been simple.

’You should have remained on Earth and died there.’

Then he had ordered Simon back to the god waiting beyond the rift.

Selan had laughed at his ruined arms.

Dorel had threatened to break his legs if he tried to leave.

Korran had stood beside them without offering a single word of help.

Now their eyes pleaded with him.

Marek’s lower lip trembled. Dorel tried so desperately to turn his head toward Enigma that a vein stood out along his neck.

Simon lifted one hand from the table.

Whoosh!

Four wind blades swept through the tent.

They passed through the four exposed necks before any of the captives could force out a word.

Their heads struck the ground.

Blood splashed across the dirt as the headless bodies toppled.

Simon lowered his hand.

Enigma looked at the bodies, then released a low whistle.

"Not even a farewell. You’re a cold bastard, Blackmoon."